Big Boys Don't Cry
by Swissmounty
Summary: WHN to „Split Second to an Epitaph", September 1968
1. Chapter 1

**Big Boys Don't Cry**

_WHN to „Split Second to an Epitaph", September 1968_

* * *

_Forever… and ever… and ever… and ever…_

Like a satirical song the wheels of the paddy wagon hammered it into his ears:

_Forever… and ever… and ever… and ever…_

_Forever your legs will be paralyzed… Forever you will be confined to this wheelchair… Forever you will be a cripple… _

Ed Brown drove the paddy wagon carefully, too slowly for Ironside's liking, and equally slowly the wheels sang their mocking song:

_Forever… and ever… and ever… and ever…_

Couldn't Ed at least speed up a little? The Chief was about to bawl at him to do so, but he let it be.

It was as if Brown was afraid of hurting the handicapped man in the cabin of the truck. Or as if he was afraid of arriving at headquarters, where everything would be unchanged.

_Never… never… never…_

Never would he walk again. Never would he catch a criminal on his own two legs. Never would he stand beside a woman.

For a few days he had allowed himself to hope for a change. There had been signs of feeling in his legs, and the doctor had – however guardedly – encouraged him to undergo exploratory surgery to find out if there was a chance of healing. There was none.

He had told Ralph Fellow's wife that there was something worse than a wheelchair: a box. Right now he could not see much of a difference.

Never would he go on that fishing trip with Ed. Never would he take Eve to a dance. Never would he play basketball with Mark. Never.

Forever would he depend on the help of others.

Mark, Ed, Eve.

They would be faithful to him, as they had been before, of course they would.

He knew that they had pinned all their hopes on this operation, not because they were unwilling to help him, but because they genuinely cared for him.

He was glad that his poker-face was in place. He could rely on that. He could not betray what was on his mind now. Eve, who was sitting opposite him, would notice it immediately.

She would hover over him like a mother hen, which she usually didn't do anymore. Perhaps she would cry. Unlike the men she was able to show her feelings, her sorrow, her heartache. Women were allowed to cry. Probably it made it easier for them to deal with grief. It even made them stronger. Actually Eve was quite a tough woman. She was empathetic, warmhearted and tough. She was wonderful.

Mark was different: When he was worried or sad he became sarcastic. He would attack everybody around him, not unlike Ironside himself. It was his way of dealing with difficulties: ranting and shouting. Was this what he had learned as a street kid, or did he copy the Chief? A little of both probably. At any rate it helped him hide pain and misery behind a façade of annoyance. He was a great guy, kind-hearted, smart and strong.

Ed was probably the most sensitive of the three, but also the clumsiest one.  
He was brought up in that 'big-boys-don't cry'-fashion, and he was too well-educated to shout. So he always tried to hide his feelings, and for anybody else it worked quite well. But Ironside knew without seeing him that right now every muscle in his body was taut, and his jawbones were pressed together so hard that it must hurt.

His three friends were as dejected as he was himself, and they did not have his life experience to help them come to terms with it. They only meant well, and they were unsettled about how to deal with him after the unfavorable diagnosis. They needed a sign of reassurance.

He picked up the microphone.

"Sergeant, pull off the road!"

Shocked Eve stared at him.

Immediately he noticed what he had triggered in her memory: She thought of the first time they had come this way, when he had made her call him a cripple.*

Ed would relive the same feelings.

Ironside willed himself to smile.

"There is a nice restaurant to the right. I want to have a cup of coffee there."

He almost heard them exhale.

When everybody had their coffee he started: "Listen, my friends. Ten days ago I was not able to walk, but you were not walking around with your heads hanging ten days ago, were you?"

The three young people nodded, although showing different grades of reluctance.

"Now I am still not able to walk. Why should you walk around with your heads hanging? What's the difference?"

For Ed, Eve and Mark there was a big difference: they had hoped that things would change, and this hope was shattered now. Of course none of them spoke up.

"If I want to have a bunch of people with a doleful expression around me I will tell you. Right now I don't.  
I suggest we take this evening off. What would you like to do?"

He saw the worry in Brown's eyes, _Will he be up to it? He just got out of hospital…_ Ed seemed to notice that his mind was being read. He turned his head away. "What…"

Anticipating that the Chief would not appreciate Ed's indecisive answer Eve interrupted him, "I would like to see a nice movie!"

Mark, knowing that Ironside would not be happy in the cinema objected, "No, there's a sensational middle weight fight tonight. I would like to see it!"

Amused Ironside sought eye contact with Ed. "What about you, Sergeant?"

Fervently Brown considered the possibilities. Eve detested boxing. Going to a fight would almost be a torture for her. On the other hand Ironside was known for getting annoyed in a cinema…

The Chief sighed inwardly. Ed would have been a quick-witted guy if only he could stop thinking around three corners all the time.

"I prefer the fight", said the sergeant, deciding that Ironside's needs were more important than Eve's this time. "What about some Rum crunchy ice cream for Eve afterwards?"

"All right, but stop being so reasonable just out of fear from upsetting me!"

Ed was unable to come up with a suitable reply.

Eve knew that Ironside was right but expected an objection: "But Chief…!"

Mark retorted indignantly: "We are not afraid of upsetting you. We are afraid of your ranting because you are upset!"

They were still chuckling when they reached the paddy wagon.

* * *

*Ironside, Pilot

_Author's note:_

_I try to respect the timeline of the original series. For the exact succession of my stories see my profile._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When they arrived at headquarters, somebody was standing at their underground parking space. Pulling closer Ed and Mark recognized Ernie Clark, the streetwise bum and illegitimate father of a newborn child whose mother had died as a result of the difficult birth.

He waited patiently until Ironside had lowered his wheelchair to the ground. If anybody could help him with his problem then it was the smartest cop – no, the smartest man - of San Francisco.

"Chief, you know that I need a job and an apartment. When I have both I can adopt my son. Will you help me find a job?"

Ironside nodded. The man needed a chance, for himself and for his newborn child. "Come up to my office. I will compile a list of possible employers for you."

When Ed opened the door to the office-apartment on the top floor to let them pass they heard agitated voices.

"I won't wait any longer, I will go after Cromwell myself!"

"They should be here any minute, I'm sure of it!" That was the Commissioner's voice.

"Cromwell will stop his raids one of these nights. He will vanish again and start somewhere else. We are bound to miss him again if we waste our time waiting!"

At this moment they became aware of Ironside's and his people's arrival. Both men fell silent when they noticed that there was a civilian among them.

"Gentlemen, I will be there for you in a minute," Ironside greeted them.

He wrote a few names of companies down. Eve contributed another one. Ernie thanked them and left. Ed escorted him out.  
For a second Ironside gazed after them. The two men were the same size and roughly the same weight. Ernie was a couple years older, but it looked as if it were the other way round: Compared to Sgt. Brown with his determined square jaw and his sophisticated thinking, he looked soft and immature. Unlike the Sergeant he would yet have to learn how to stand his ground: He was used to walking away as soon as things started to sour. Would he be able to proof to the authorities that he was capable of being a father for his son?

Brown's attitude towards him had changed radically: Only a few days ago he had shown the next thing to hostility the Chief had ever seen from him. He had been disgusted that a young man, who was able to work, lived on welfare whereas others, who really needed it, did not get enough to live on. But then Ernie's girlfriend had died. It seemed as if Ed had wanted him to be punished and forced to work – but instead this tragedy had happened. Immediately Ed's heart turned towards the poor guy who was now at risk of losing his child too. He would do everything to give him a chance.  
Brown had proved again that he was a gentle, insightful man, and Ironside was quite proud of him.

He turned towards his guests.

Randall took the floor: "Bob, how are you?"

He pointed at a middle-aged, curly-haired, tired looking man. "This is Lieutenant Carter from the LAPD. He will explain his problem to you."

"Where's Albee?"*

"He signed a full confession. No problems there."

Ironside's friends were obviously not very happy about the situation. Randall didn't even want to know how the Chief really was!  
Perhaps he was also afraid of being confronted with the letdown of Ironside's surgery… but was it really necessary to drag the Chief into a new case instantly? Their protective instincts let them silently condemn the Commissioner, with different grades of anger, according to their different temperaments.  
They didn't get a chance to defend their boss though, because Lt. Carter spoke up:

"We had a series of robberies in different towns, and we think that they are connected, since the pattern is always similar. It started in Los Angeles, that's why it is my case. At first we could see nothing specific, but then the same stunt was pulled in Santa Barbara and in several other towns of California, last week in Santa Cruz, where a night watchman was injured, and now here. A few stores are robbed – watches, jewelry, electronics; mostly relatively expensive items of limited volume. Several robberies take place within two or three days, then it is over, and the stolen goods never show up again.

We suspect a certain Jason Cromwell, because he did something similar a few years ago. He was caught and sentenced then. He got out of prison six months ago. The pattern fits his earlier felonies, but we can't prove a thing. We don't even know where he is now."

Randall rose. "Gentlemen, Miss Whitfield, I have to go now. I promised Lieutenant Carter that he will get every possible help from you."

Ironside was hooked instantly. "Do you have a list of the towns where such robberies took place?"

Eve and Ed exchanged worried glances. Was this the Chief's way of dealing with his fate – rushing into new problems? Of course they would do their best to support their boss, but it was impossible to keep him from exhausting himself.

Mark rolled his eyes and went to brew some coffee. It would be needed badly.

Carter handed the Chief a list. He studied it thoroughly. "So all the towns involved are on the coast."

Carter nodded. "Yes, they are. It may be a coincidence."

"Maybe not. It would be logic if Cromwell uses a boat."

"He does not own a boat. We would know that."

"He could have rented it, or stolen, or bought under a different name."

"And how could he have gotten rid of the stolen goods? The best market for this kind of items is the United States, not foreign countries."

"For instance meeting with a truck in a small town somewhere in-between."

Carter was impressed. Ironside was at least as good as his reputation, and his reputation was fabulous.

"You have a point there. But how on earth should we find it?"

"Ed, Eve, you collect lists of schedules of as many smaller cargo boats as you can get. Check them against the places and dates of the robberies. I don't think that he uses one of the biggest vessels. For once it would not be profitable and then it would be too conspicuous."

Meanwhile he would read the reports of the robberies and hopefully find some new hints.

Carter was amazed by the efficiency of this small special unit. Officer Whitfield was a quick reader and obviously very smart. Sgt. Brown was calm and considerate and he surely didn't miss much. For hours they worked on the dull material, lunch completely forgotten. Only Mark's coffee – or what he passed off as that - seemed to be omnipresent.

Dozens of phone-calls later they were pretty sure that no boat had stopped at every town where the robberies had taken place.

"They may have changed the name of the boat," assumed the Chief.

Dejected Carter gave up. How should he ever find it then? Letters and numbers seemed to blur in front of his eyes. Ironside noticed it. "It's time you took a break, Lieutenant. Go get a good night's rest."

Carter hesitated. It might be the last night Cromwell was staying here… on the other hand he knew himself that he was no big help in his current state. Therefore he decided to take his leave.

Ed didn't mention that he thought that it was time the Chief himself took a break too. He was a tough guy, but the surgery had taken its toll, not to mention that he had almost lost his life because he had been poisoned. But trying to get him to rest was no use, he knew it from experience.

It was half an hour later when Ironside found the vital link: There was a connection between the names of some of the boats they had considered as being possibly used for the robberies.

"Ed, make use of the last daylight and try to find that boat..." He didn't want Eve out on the waterfront at night. It was no place for a lady, not even for a police woman. "... Look for the ones with the names which show up in several of the towns we checked… and start with those with names occurring in _Shakespeare's dramas_!"

Now that Ironside had pointed it out Brown saw the connection too. Nevertheless he hesitated. He felt responsible for the Chief. If he went away - would Eve and Mark be able to persuade him to get his much needed rest?

"Don't just stand there!" Ironside barked. "You won't find that ship in my office!"

* * *

_* Ironside 2/1 Split Second to an Epitaph_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

After Ed had left, Mark prepared a dinner of canned chili. He would have expected that Ironside would be happy about his favorite food after his days in hospital, but he only pushed it around on the plate.

Eve and Mark started to exchange worried looks. Under his Californian tan the great detective was looking pale and from time to time he pressed his lips together for a second as if he had to suppress a spell of pain.

"Chief, don't you think that you should rest for a while? You left the hospital just this morning. We think that you are overexerting yourself…"

"I know when I left the hospital! No wonder I have to overexert myself if my staff who is supposed to help me lets me do all the thinking!"

Both young people knew perfectly well that he had to be in quite a bad shape. It was rather common that he was cranky and gruff, but normally they didn't feel like being treated unjustly.

Behind his back Mark showed Eve that he wanted to go out.

"Tell me what I can do to help you," asked Eve, in order to distract the Chief. She wasn't entirely successful for he still noticed that Mark tried to sneak away.

"What's the matter? You don't have any classes tonight, do you? Are you fed up with my company?"

"We are running out of coffee, and I can't risk that when you are in a bad mood," answered Mark glibly.

"If you call this a bad mood then I'm always in a bad mood!" shouted the Chief.

It made Mark grin. "That's why I never want to run out of coffee!" At that he left for good.

* * *

Again and again Ironside and Eve scanned through the files of the thefts of the last few days in San Francisco. Perhaps there were robberies Carter had not been able to connect to Cromwell, and it might be possible to find a link to him.

Mark helped them when he had brewed a new pot of coffee, but nothing caught their eye.

"Where's that coffee you promised?" asked the Chief indignantly, but in fact he was feeling worn out and sore.

Immediately Mark got a cup for him.

* * *

Ed Brown was lucky: He found a cargo ship named 'Lucrece' which fitted well into their probable premises. He radioed the Chief, giving him this piece of information, and promised to observe it and call back later on.

* * *

Ironside, Eve and Mark went back to their files, but soon afterwards Ironside started to yawn.

Keeping his eyes open became increasingly difficult. Finally he gave in. "As tired as I am I would not find a connection if it were written in bold capitals. I have to go to sleep. Eve, I see you in the morning. Mark, when Ed calls in, tell him to go home too. I'm sorry about that evening off we had planned."

When he was in the bathroom, Eve asked Mark: "What did you do? Don't tell me you had nothing to do with this! He would never give in just like that."

"I went to the drugstore and asked for the most powerful sleeping powder they had. I put it into his coffee."

"You did fine. He needs his rest badly."

* * *

For about twenty minutes Ed Brown monitored the ship but nothing happened: no one left it, no one went on board. He decided to sneak on board. The cargo hatch was open. Was this the right ship? And were the people using it about to pull a raid tonight?

He listened carefully: behind the cabin door there where voices to be heard, two at the least. He could not understand what they were saying though.  
He inched closer. Suddenly he heard footsteps on deck. Quickly he hid behind the lifeboat. Looking out from there he saw… Ernie Clark!

"Ernie, stop!" he whispered.

Clark heard him and turned around.

"What in blazes are you doing here?!" asked the detective.

"I was offered a job, something along trading electronics."

Most probably he had overheard Randall and Carter this morning and had hoped to make remittance. "Is this Cromwell's ship?"

Clark nodded.

"How did you find it?"

"I happen to know one of Cromwell's old flames. She lives here in San Francisco. She told me how to find him."

"The only business done here is crime, so clear out!"

"I need the money!" Ernie almost shouted it.

Ed shook his head. He knew well how desperate the man was after his loss, but this was no way to go. He kept his voice low and tried to explain the matter very clearly, "No, you don't need the money. You need a decent job and you need to prove that you can keep it and that you are capable of leading a responsible, steady life or you will ruin everything for your child. And you need to shut up or you will alert Cromwell."

The door to the cabin opened and out stepped a man fitting Cromwell's description. He held an ugly looking Luger in his hands. Immediately Ed took a step back. It was too late to pull his own gun.

He tried to bluff: "Good evening Sir, we were just looking for you."

Cromwell was no pushover though. "Turn around and no further move or I'll put a hole in you!" he said coldly, and he looked as if he meant it.  
When a red-haired, hamburger-chewing man stepped out behind him he ordered: "See if he is armed!"

The redhead threw the hamburger away. From behind, invisible for Ed, he patted the Sergeant down – not too gently - and found his badge immediately, as well as his .38. He pulled it out of the holster. "Ah, ah! A guardian of the law!" he exclaimed pompously.

Cromwell put the gun in Ernie's hand. "Kill that pig."

"I thought this was about dealing with electronics. I will never take part in a murder!" protested Clark.

"That's your choice."

Ernie's eyes widened with shock when the Luger was suddenly aimed at him.

"Get down there!" With the gun Cromwell directed Ed and Ernie towards the hatch. There was a ladder.

"Use it!" barked Cromwell.

Ed looked around, but right now it would have been far too dangerous to try to escape. Not only his own life was at stake, but also Clark's.

Therefore he did as he was told, and Ernie followed suit.

Then the redhead pulled the ladder out of the cargo hatch. A canvas cover was pulled over the hatch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It was very dark in the cargo compartment, but not completely.

"We'll never get out of here alive," lamented Ernie.

"Oh, come on, big boys don't cry," whispered Ed with a spell of his earlier impatience with the other man.

Ernie noticed that Ed was walking around in the dark. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for a way out, what else?" He was Ironside's student after all. Ironside would not just sit around and wait.

Ernie had a different background. "There's none. These crates are far too high, and if you get out, Cromwell will shoot you."

"I won't try before he goes away of course."

Ernie was right though. Ed tried to find a gap between the containers, but there was none large enough to get his foot into, not even when he pulled his shoes off. He had hoped that he would be able to climb up, but this didn't seem to be an option.

The crates seemed to have the height of standard containers, about 8ft 6. Obviously he could not reach the upper edge.

"Help me get onto the crate. I think there's a gap up there."

"And what if they notice that you want to flee?!"

"They won't if you are quiet."

"You can't leave me alone here!"

"I won't. Maybe I will be able to pull you up."

With Ernie's help he managed to climb onto the crate and then onto the second one. From there it would be possible to reach the hatch and get out. But as there was not enough space to stand, it would be impossible to pull Ernie up onto the first crate.

At any rate they would have to wait and see if the crooks would go on a tour tonight.

Much later the sounds of footsteps indicated that several men were leaving the ship.

"Ernie, maybe they all left. One of us must try to get out and call for help. Either you do this or your have to remain here. It's no use that we both stay here." And maybe both get killed, he thought, but he didn't say that.

"Then I want to get out! But I don't know how."

"If I could do it, so can you. We're the same size. You have to alert Chief Ironside."

"If I don't he won't know that I was about to do a murky business. If I tell him where you are you will tell him what I did. I could just go away..."

The mere fact that he uttered his thoughts showed Ed that he was willing to change his life.

"It's your chance to prove that you deserve being your son's father. If I were you I'd grab it."

Almost invisibly Ernie nodded. "Help me up there, will you?"

He knew very well that the sergeant took a big risk staying here, and so did Ed himself.

* * *

In spite of the sleeping powder Ironside did not sleep well this night. He would never have admitted it, but he felt sore and weak. Perhaps he should have taken it easy yesterday after all…

But of course big boys did not cry. They might become angry, but they did not show any pain.  
According to this gem of wisdom his mood worsened by the hour.  
Towards four in the morning he hollered: "Mark, is there no coffee in this house?"

Mark showed up quite quickly. Probably he had not slept much either out of worry about his fatherly friend.

"Nobody drinks coffee at four in the morning," he complained but put the pot onto the stove.

"Never heard of bakers? They do!" shouted Ironside but felt a little sorry for Mark already.

"If you want to change your job – go for it! That way you won't get yourself into trouble anymore, I suppose."

In spite of all his misery Ironside had to smile.

"What did Ed have to say?" he asked.

"He didn't call in, so I suppose he had nothing to say."

"He did _what_?" Instantly the Chief was in a rage again. "He _had_ to call in. Call him at home."

"Now?" asked Mark, eying his watch incredulously.

"You read me loud and clear!"

Mark did so, but after the ninth ring he knew that Brown was not at home: His phone was placed on his nightstand. He would have heard it.

"Try his car!" commanded Ironside, but he already anticipated the outcome. His Sergeant had not called in because he had not been able to do so.

"Help me get dressed. We'll go to the waterfront!"

Mark did not ask him if he knew how late it was, and the coffee lost its importance immediately.

* * *

Again Ed heard footsteps on the deck. Fortunately Ernie had got away.

The motor was started and the ship sailed off.

Later on the ladder was put back, and someone pointed the shine of a torch down to him.

"Get up here, you two!"

It was no use not to obey.

"Where's the other one?"

Ed shrugged his shoulders. What should he have said anyway?

"He must be in the hold somewhere."

A seaman with a flashlight climbed down but was back within a minute. "He's not there."

Threateningly Cromwell waved the gun in front of Ed's nose.

"How did he get out?"

"He climbed out," answered Ed quietly. It was rather obvious, wasn't it?

Out of the blue Cromwell backhanded the Sergeant, using his free left hand. "That's impossible!"

Brown decided not to anger him more than necessarily. "It's the truth."

He saw the next blow coming, this time with the gun. It would _really_ hurt.

With a well-practiced movement he blocked Cromwell's forearm. Cromwell lost his grip on the gun and it slithered towards the hatch. But there was still a gun pointing at Ed: the sailor's.

"Kill that bastard!" hissed an enraged Cromwell, clutching his hurting arm.

"No, not me," answered the sailor unexpectedly. "I won't kill a cop."

The red-head, who was standing behind Ed, laughed and japed about dead cops being no loss.  
The sailor pushed the gun into the redhead's hand. "Do your dirty killing yourself!"

Ed knew that he would be killed within seconds now; therefore he might as well try a getaway.  
He would not be able to get to the gun fast enough, and there were too many adversaries to fight with his bare hands. Consequently he took the only possible way out: pushing the seaman, who was standing in his way to the side, he jumped ship.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Ed dove down as deep as he could to avoid the bullets which would be fired inevitably. He thought that it is rather difficult to hit a moving target from a rolling boat in the dark. If he was lucky...

Actually, when he resurfaced the bullets came too close for his liking, but they didn't hit him.

The motor of the boat, which had been stopped, was started again. But against the dark coast he was not easy to detect.

Only now he felt that the tide was against him. For how long? He had no idea. If his sense of direction wasn't wrong he was near Point Diablo. He would try not to drift too far out into the ocean, hoping that they would not find and shoot him. The currents would make it difficult, if not impossible to get ashore, and his soaked clothes pulled him down. He stripped his jacket and shoes off. He wasn't a bad swimmer, but it would take all his strength to keep swimming until daybreak – and then someone would have to find him. Maybe if Ernie alerted the Chief, then the coastguard would look for him?

But how should Ironside know that he wasn't in Cromwell's clutches anymore?

He was far from being secure. Very far. But at least for the time being he was still alive.

* * *

Ironside and Mark were on the ramp when the phone rang.

Mark answered it. "Chief, it's Ernie Clark."

Ironside didn't ask why he phoned so early in the morning. His gut told him that there was a connection to Ed's disappearance.

Ernie's report wasn't the standard Ironside was used to get from his people, but then he'd not trained this man personally...

"But Sir – the boat's not there anymore. I hardly managed to get away before Cromwell and his men returned. They just sailed off. What if they find out that Sgt. Brown is alone?"

"Where are you?" asked Ironside instead of an answer.

"At a friend's; something like home for me right now." He gave Ironside the address.

"Why didn't you alert me immediately?!"

"Well, how should I do that? I didn't even have a dime on me to make a phone call. And Sgt. Brown encouraged me to stay at the straight and narrow."

Ironside rolled his eyes. This was a strange moment to start being honest.

"Stay where you are until you hear from me. I may need you soon!" barked Ironside, and then, "Mark, we need a map of the bay!"

Mark hurried to get one. He knew that the Chief's anger wasn't directed at him.

But Ironside was _very_ angry – at the people who had caused this situation, at Ernie, at the circumstances, at his own weakness, even at Ed for getting into trouble.

He unfolded the map on his knees. Where would Cromwell and his people be heading?

He picked up the phone.

Mark only heard half of the conversation, but he could easily imagine the rest:

"Yes, Commissioner, I know what time it is!" Mark felt almost sorry for Randall.

"You were the one who wanted me and my people on this case in the first place. Now Ed's missing!"

"No, he wasn't careless. He just did his job!" Mark didn't know why, but it seemed as if Commissioner Randall wasn't particularly fond of Ed Brown – and of himself either, for that matter. Maybe because they were so close to the Chief. He couldn't get to the Chief when he felt bamboozled, but to his people, Ed in particular, who still worked for the department; and that's what he tried from time to time. But this time Ironside wouldn't give him a chance.

"I want the best investigators to look for him. And I want every legal authority including the coast guard or whoever I need!"

"Exactly. That's all I want – right now, that is."

Ironside threw the earpiece back onto the cradle. It didn't break; the phone was used to that kind of treatment.

Only for a few seconds the Chief sat there motionless, thinking about his next step.  
Then he initiated a red alert to the coast guard and instructed them what they had to look for.  
Mark knew that he would have done exactly the same for him or for Eve, had they been in Ed's place. He sent them into the danger, but he never left them alone.

"Where's that coffee you promised?!" he shouted now.

Soon the phone rang: The "Lucrece" had been seen leaving for Golden Gate.

Next thing for Ironside was to get Eve out of bed.

"Eve, your parents still have that boat in the Presidio Yacht Club at Travis Marina, right?" They had been on a trip on it once. Ironside knew that he could get into it easily.

Of course Eve volunteered to take the boat out.

Mark tried hard to find a way to convince Ironside to stay at home. It wouldn't do him any good if he caught a cold so soon after having had surgery.

"Chief, don't you think..." He didn't get any further.

"No, I don't think!" grumbled Ironside ironically, and he sounded as if he knew exactly what Mark had in mind.

* * *

Mark picked Eve up on their way to Travis Marina.

When they reached the Club Ironside gave him a walkie-talkie. "Mark, I need you to keep contact with headquarters. So keep the radio going. Drive up to Golden Gate Bridge and stop as soon as you can see Point Bonita Lighthouse. From there you should be able to reach me via walkie-talkie in case a message comes in."

Eve was used to steering her parents' boat. Soon they passed the bridge.

Slowly it started getting light. Fortunately there was no fog. Still Ironside felt chilly. He had to admit that he wasn't at his best yet, and the lack of sleep didn't help. Trying to ignore the pain in his back he stared out onto the ocean, hoping to detect the cargo ship. His eyes stung from the overexertion but he didn't care.

Suddenly he paused. He rubbed his eyes and gave Eve the binoculars. "Look there, at ten o'clock," he said without a further comment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"That could be a head – a person swimming... you don't think that it could be Ed, do you?" shouted Eve excitedly.

Quickly they approached the spot where they had seen the person.

Eve stopped the boat.

Ed was still swimming, but he didn't have the strength to pull himself over the reeling.

"Give me your hand!" shouted Ironside. It took Eve's help as well to pull him up.  
Like a sack full of potatoes Ed slid over board.  
Clinging to one of the wooden benches for dear life he started to cough helplessly.

Ironside looked at his shivering friend. "Take off your shirt."

He slipped out of his jacket and gave it to Ed, who refused, "N-no, Sir..." The man had just come out of hospital. What if he got a cold in his weakened state?!

"That's an order, Sergeant!"

Contradiction was pointless. Because his hands were stiff with cold Ed struggled with the buttons of his shirt. Eve helped him.

In the Chief's jacket he looked like a schoolboy in Daddy's coat.

Ironside knew that he was exhausted, but he was a professional. He expected him to act like a professional. Anytime.

"What can you tell me about the men on the 'Lucrece'?"

Obviously Ed had trouble concentrating.

"Cr-Cromwell..."

"We know about Cromwell; Ernie told us. What about the second man, the redhead?"

"Di-didn't s-see a r-redhead." The trembling didn't stop. Ed tried to recall what he knew, and stuttering he reported, "The man behind me said that a dead cop was no big loss, and then he laughed as if he had cracked a great joke."

"A joke? Wait a minute! Where these the man's exact words – the ones about the cop?"

"No, probably not. I think he said 'pig' instead of 'cop'. Why is it important?"

"…pig… big loss… Could he have said: 'A pig less is no big loss?'"

"Yes, that's it: 'One pig less is no big loss.'"

Eve began to realize what the Chief meant. "Do you think that the redhead is 'the poet'?"

Ed didn't understand what she was talking about.

"You were in the Marines when 'the poet' made his way through the newspapers. He was a red-haired small-time crook named Jake Miller who for obvious reasons was better known under his nickname. People liked him because he managed to put every sentence into a humorous, rimed one-liner. But perhaps he was more than a small-time crook after all."

Ed tried to report every detail, but actually there was not much more, except for a sailor who shied away from murder.

Ironside sent a team to Miller's address. "He has to go somewhere, and he has no reason to assume that we know that he was on the boat."

Suddenly the walkie-talkie crackled. "Chief, the coast guard have found the "Lucrece". She's been abandoned. They are bringing her back to pier 47."

Ironside had to take a decision. He wanted to examine the freighter immediately. Others might overlook and destroy important pieces of evidence. On the other hand the sergeant could not stay with him, and he would not get home alone.

"Mark, we have Ed. We are returning to Travis Marina. Join us there!" he radioed.

When they arrived there Mark was already waiting for them.

"Eve, catch a taxi. Take Ed home. You know what to do, get some soup into him and so on."

Eve had the good sense to take the Chief's jacket from Ed's shoulders and give it back to her convalescent boss. She wanted to wrap Ed into her own, although this one was too small. Mark noticed it and gave her his.

The taxi driver eyed Ed suspiciously in his soaking wet pants, barefoot, white as a sheet and trembling like an aspen leaf. Eve wasn't very patient. She whipped out her badge in her best upper-class manner and directed him to Greenwich Terrace.

She was all business and her voice sounded almost as cool as the Chief's when she ordered Ed to take a hot shower. He vanished into the small bathroom to get rid of his wet pants. Meanwhile she looked for a hot-water bag. He didn't have one. She used an empty milk bottle for the purpose. Of course there was nothing in his kitchen to make a soup of.

"C-coffee will be f-fine," assured her colleague.

She shook her head in disapproval. "Herbal tea to make you sweat is much better – and you go to bed now right away!"

While he obediently sipped the thick, sweet brew – dreaming of black coffee – she roamed restlessly around.

"S-sorry for keeping you."

"I'm just so worried about the Chief. Yesterday he was still at the hospital. He's supposed to take it easy."

"Know. Sorry. You d-don't have to stay."

Only now she realized that he felt guilty. Her voice softened and she sat down at the edge of his bed. "Ed, you are not responsible for the temperature of the Pacific Ocean."

"No. B-but I'm responsible for jumping into it."

He was so used to be feeling culpable for everything!

"Otherwise you'd be dead by now and the Chief would move heaven and earth to get the ones who killed you. Ed – can't you get it into your thick scull that he cares for you?!"

She read his answer in his eyes, _I care for him too_. But he didn't utter it. "P-please go and help him. I'll manage."

He pulled his knees up to his chin, hoping to warm up that way.

Eve knew that he had to be totally spent. He looked very young to her, the man who always felt responsible for everything; the guy who tried to protect her like a big brother; the big boy who would never cry. For once she would take care of him. She went to brew a second cup of tea.

Slowly his shivering subsided.

Soon he started again, "Eve, the Chief should be in bed, not me. He needs us. It's probably too late to join him on the 'Lucrece'. Let's go back to the office and see what we can do to help him."

Eve shook her head. The guy was as stubborn as his boss. She felt torn between her duty and her worry about the Chief. Determinedly Ed struggled out of bed, leaving her not much of a choice.

* * *

Ironside went on board of the 'Lucrece', joined by a still tired Carter, who had been brought in by a uniformed police officer from headquarters, and Ernie Clark, who had been picked up too.

The coast guards were ordered to stand guard on the pier. The Chief didn't want to have too many feet trample over any possible evidence.

He was angry, overtired and sore, but big boys didn't cry. Therefore he barked his orders as if he were commanding a company of mentally retarded recruits. His face looked as if it were carved out of granite. Lt. Carter was almost afraid of him.

Stealthily he pulled the uniformed officer behind a corner. "Tell me, is the Chief always so harsh?"

"Yes, always, but today he's even a little worse than 'always'," answered the man.

"Then why do Brown and Whitfield work for him? They seem to be decent detectives. Could they not get any better jobs?"

The policeman scratched his head. "They are among San Francisco's finest. Brown could get whatever job he wants and Whitfield doesn't need to work at all. I can't really explain why they work for the cantankerous Chief. Ok… he is absolutely the best criminalist there is. But there must be something else. Perhaps it is exactly what you see today: Someone wanted to harm his number one son, and now he won't rest until he finds the guilty ones. There must be more between Ironside and his people than just professional collegiality. Actually I can't explain it, but I think Ed and Eve are honored and delighted to work for Chief Ironside."

Carter shook his head. He would be happy to get back to LA and away from a man who would probably bite his head off if he forgot to tie his shoes. Still he knew exactly that his case was in the absolutely best hands…

The lifeboat of the freighter was missing. Obviously the crooks had left in it when they had felt threatened by Ernie's and Ed's getaway.

Ernie showed the Chief where they had been standing when they had been caught.

"Ernie, please repeat the entire conversation for us!"

"Well, Sgt. Brown told me that I would ruin it for little Steven if I went on like this, and that I should be quiet because Cromwell might hear us. But it was too late, for Cromwell came out with a gun."

The Hamburger was still lying in the corner where the redhead had thrown it. Mark picked it up. "It's a pity that the paper has been blown away. There might perhaps have been some fingerprints on it."

"Mark, give me that Hamburger!" demanded the Chief. He examined it thoroughly.

"This may be almost as good as fingerprints. Let's take it to the lab."

Nobody understood what he was talking about.

"Look at the hamburger, where the man has taken a bite." In the meat the imprints of somebody's teeth were distinctly visible. There had to be a considerable gap between the front teeth of the person.

"Sir, do you think that we could prove who threw this hamburger away?"

"At least this gap looks to me like 'the poet's'."

Mark remembered the crook. "Then we have our connection, and 'the poet' and Cromwell can be nailed, even though Ed didn't really see Miller, right?"

"Yes, and Ernie's testimony will be verified by a dentist. Otherwise it would have been his word against theirs."

Carter looked as if a load had been taken off his mind… unlike Ernie.

"My tes-ti-mo-ny?" he asked very slowly, stunned. "Who says that I will testify?"

"You did. You want to be the father of little Steven, meaning that you will be an upright citizen. Upright citizens testify against criminals. Quod erat demonstrandum!"

* * *

_Epilogue to come_


	7. Chapter 7

**Epilogue**

Ed showed Ernie and his little son out.

Eve had carried Steven to his baptism.  
Actually it was the reason why Ernie had asked her to be his son's godmother: he had needed someone who was able to carry the baby, or so he said, since the godfather, Chief Ironside, was unable to do it.  
It made Ironside smile, because there was perhaps a second reason to choose a wealthy godmother for a child except that she was able to walk.

After the baptismal service Ironside had invited the small christening party into his office-apartment for lunch.

At the door, Ernie held his step. "Sergeant, I have never met anyone like you. I know that you couldn't stand me in the first place. And then you risked your life for me, and you encouraged me to take my life into my own hands. May I call you my friend?"

Ed felt a little embarrassed. People didn't talk to him that way. He had only done what had to be done, as always. But it was obvious that Ernie needed some friends. "Sure. Just try not to get in my way next time I'm after some crooks. And my name's Ed."

"You won't find me on the crooks' side anymore. Never ever." He pressed Ed's hand firmly. "That's a promise. Thanks, my friend."

"Seeing Ernie and Steven like this was worth a cold bath," Ed smiled, coming back to the others.

"Perhaps it was for you!" Mark whined. "But what about Eve and me who had to do your share of the work in addition to ours when it came to finding Cromwell and to clearing the seamen that day, while you kept falling asleep at your desk?!"

Ironside threw in: "And what's that bath got to do with it anyway? Who got Ernie the job as a lawyer's assistant with the chance of making a career in this field? And who talked the adoption authorities into letting Ernie have the child right away?"

Of course he was right: he had been very successful. But for once, on such a feast day, he could have been nice and let the Sergeant have his fair share of the credit, Eve thought. "But Ed did a good job getting Ernie to overcome his selfishness and take on responsibility, and finding Cromwell's boat in the first place."

"Yes, after I told him what to look for! Who found out that they kept changing the name of the boat and that all the names had to do with Shakespeare?"

"And what about me? Who was it who found the hamburger which proved the poet's involvement?" Mark threw in.

Behind his poker face Ironside felt as if a mountain had slipped off his soul. This was the first time since his stay in the hospital that his friends dared to talk back to him. They didn't tiptoe around him as if he were a hothouse plant anymore. It felt incredibly good. The haunting wheels in his head came to a stop. It was true: he had to sit in this wheelchair. But this chair was a lot better than a box. He wanted to live, wanted to banter with his young friends, wanted to fight crime and to help people live. He knew well that there would come tough times again, but there would also be good times like right now, times well worth living.

"Well, Ernie seems to be a good judge of heroes: He chose _me_ as his son's godfather. Doesn't that say enough? Let's toast my godchild once more!"

He raised his glass. He didn't mean his godchild but his friends, yet he could not and would not tell them how important it was for him that his world was back in place.

* * *

_Author's notes:_

_Lemonpig encouraged me to write a WHN to "Split Second". This is the result.  
Briroch has corrected it. Thank you!  
And thank you, dear readers and reviewers, for your interest!_


End file.
